


the river never ends

by orphan_account



Series: midnight to early morning haunting [1]
Category: Naruto, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: ...tbh too serious i might even rewrite the rewrite, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically everyone will be mentioned at some point - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Reconciliation, Mental Health Issues, Multi, No beta we die like wwx, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, The slash relationships are gonna be really slow, do i know what im doing? no i dont, it isn't that bad i think, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: To be honest, Jiang Cheng was tired of being angry. But reincarnated into an unfamiliar world, as a little girl with flower-pink hair with people familiar-yet-not all around him, what else did he have but his anger?(Or: Jiang Cheng is reincarnated as Haruno Sakura. That's it, that's the AU.)
Relationships: Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín/Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Series: midnight to early morning haunting [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736974
Comments: 45
Kudos: 285





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, before anything else: it turns out I underestimated how seriously I wanted to treat my 'crack treated seriously' and also I didn't quite like the pacing or setting I made for "canon in d(estruction)" so here is a rewrite with the same premise, which is 'angry purple character is reborn as angry pink character', but this time i actually have a vague, vague direction on where to go from here ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> so uh ye, enjoy the mess

In the end, what killed Jiang Cheng was not a fierce battle against a supernatural creature or a vicious curse. He did not die on a night hunt nor did he die fighting a war against a rivalling clan. Ultimately, what killed Jiang Cheng was his own mortality.

He did everything he could, even going so far as sending out missives to the most renowned specialists, but in the end, no one could do anything about his gradually worsening illness, about the uneven beating of his heart. A year and a half after becoming aware of his condition, Jiang Cheng passed away just as springtime began.

And then he woke up.

At first, he was confused. Why was the world so blurry? Was this yet another side effect of Yu Liu’s latest concoction? He was getting really sick and tired of trying new experimental treatments. But he had to admit, for all that this one tasted awful and left him with a pounding headache for the first two hours, it was quite effective in preventing heart palpitations for at least six hours. Speaking of which, he should drink the first dose. He reached towards the bedside table – and why did his arm feel so _heavy?_ – But found nothing but air.

He tried to turn his head towards it but found that he couldn’t do that either. With slowly rising panic, Jiang Cheng tried blinking to clear his eyesight to no avail. And then he felt it: something big enough to envelop the entirety of his body, making it feel as if he was losing the very ground he stood on. Which was ironic—he wasn’t even standing.

 _What is this?_ He wondered as bright lights entered his still unfocused vision. When the movement settled, he blinked again, and looked up to see...a face.

That was a face looking down on him.

That was when he registered the noise. It was a woman’s voice, sounding vaguely familiar, but whatever was being said was lost on him. He couldn’t make out heads or tails of the ongoing conversation so he stopped trying to, instead focusing on getting back his mobility. But _nothing_ was _working._

Fed up, he tried asking, “What the _hell_ happened?” hoping that whoever this was could tell him. Maybe she could even explain why he felt both better yet somehow worse at the same time. He knew his illness was doing a number on him recently, but this was just _ridiculous._

But instead of hearing his voice or the words he meant to say, the only thing that left his mouth was incoherent babbling. And it wasn't just babbling either, it was _familiar babbling,_ the kind that he had heard for the first few moments of Jin Ling's life until he learned how to talk. 

A _baby's_ babbling. And it was coming from _him._

So did the following wail.

* * *

A _baby._ He was a _baby!_ The realization hit him hard, enough to shut him up as the world around him bustled. He tried entertaining the thought that this might be some strange fever dream, but he had seen the sun rise and set thrice already. If this was a dream then it sure was an annoyingly long one.

Icy chills went down his spine as he realized what this could only mean.

_I died._

Because of course he did. Of course, the moment the routine he had lived for thirteen years broke, the very _second_ it seemed like he was finally moving on from the stagnancy of his life would be the same moment he'd fallen ill. Just as everyone who mattered to him experienced changes for the better, just as Jin Ling was growing into the position he was always going to inherit…

Just like that, the mounting anger and frustration dissipated as a fact dawned on him. He'd _died._ He left a-jie's son by himself. He left the child he had raised from infancy. 

_"You're going to be okay, aren't you, jiujiu?"_

_A scoff, "You can't get rid of me that easily. Now stop asking stupid questions."_

But apparently it was and Jiang Cheng could feel his blood boiling once again. Anger was comforting, anger was familiar. Anger was _hurtful,_ and if he could have, he'd have turned that sharp-edged rage upon himself. 

How could he have died? He knew it was coming, he wasn't optimistic enough to think he could have been healed, but he thought he'd at least make it for Jin Ling's proper inauguration as sect leader. He cursed himself and his weakness.

And now… now, for some reason, he was given another chance to live. He was _alive._ Even though he was probably the last person to deserve reincarnation, and reincarnation as a human to boot.

He couldn't help but feel the flames licking at his skin, the simmering in his veins. What was the point of being alive now? He couldn't even be with the people he wanted to live for. He could no longer lead his sect and his disciples – and gods above, he left no heirs – and _his nephew…_

 _I'm sorry, A-Ling,_ he found himself thinking, _I couldn't keep my promise._

* * *

Life as a baby was awful. Jiang Cheng has stared off into space more times than he could count whenever it was time for this tiny infant body to feed because...because of obvious reasons. 

Most of the time, he slept. When he was awake, he would look around the brightly colored walls and listen to the unfamiliar language the adults in his new life would use. There was a time when he briefly entertained running off as soon as he gained enough motor skills, returning to Lotus Pier just to see how the sect fared. But several things discouraged him from that course of action.

Firstly, he had no idea how long it has been since his death. It could have been years since he died. Maybe five, maybe ten—or perhaps a century has passed since then. He had no way of knowing, and even if he did, he would still have to wait for years until he could walk about by himself.

Secondly, would anyone believe him anyway if he showed up and claimed to be the sect leader reborn? They'd probably haul him out of Yunmeng by the scruff, like some agitated cat. And even if anyone does – unlikely – he would still no longer have any jurisdiction over how it's run. Wasn't reincarnation a new life altogether? He'd more likely be treated like some kind of vengeful ghost: some fool would attempt to tell him to _move on._

The third and last major reason was he had no idea _where_ he was reborn in relation to Lotus Pier. The people around him speak a whole other language, for gods' sake, he was probably in a different country altogether.

Or he could have been reborn so far off in the future that the language had drastically changed.

None of these possibilities were pleasant to think of but Jiang Cheng hated running away. He'd rather face the facts here and now rather than give himself false hopes. He already felt the pain they caused during those thirteen years of his brother's absence.

That didn't change the fact that the truth of the situation he was facing now wasn't good. Of course it wasn't because this was Jiang Cheng. His luck sucked no matter which life he lived.

* * *

As time went on, Jiang Cheng learned a lot about this new life.

He learned that his new name was Sakura. He learned what his new parents' names were; his new mother was Mebuki, his new father was Kizashi. Judging by the lack of other children in his immediate vicinity, he figured he was the couple's firstborn.

Oh, and he was apparently a girl this time around, but that was the least of his concerns. 

When his tiny baby body finally became capable of crawling, he took to exploring every inch of his new surroundings. It seemed to make his new parents very happy to see him moving around so energetically. 

He was finally getting a hang of the language too. By the time he was a year old, he was speaking full – although short – sentences. He had to admit though—his pronunciation wasn't the best. He also found that there were similarities between this new language and his old one in the way they were written, which was both comforting and yet not.

Either the language had changed with time that it was unrecognizable, or he was born in another country entirely. 

That was not a fun thought to mull over.

In any case, language barriers and crawling shenanigans aside, he also learned that brightly colored hair was apparently normal nowadays. His new mother's hair was a shade of brownish-yellow – _blonde_ is the term, apparently – while his new father had red hair. The first time he noticed that little tidbit, he wondered if this body's hair color would be just as outrageous.

He got his answer the first time he saw himself in the mirror. This time around, his hair was _pink._ It reminded him of flowers.

Then the first time he was brought to the markets, he got to see for himself how it wasn't just him or his new parents who had hair like this. He spotted a few red-haired people in their immediate neighborhood. Some had _orange._ They also passed what seemed like a shop that sold flowers, but what caught his attention was a man with hair so pale-blonde that it was nearly white when the light hit at a certain angle.

If he had seen people like these back when he was himself, he would have thought they were the kinds of spirits the masses gossiped about. 

It was yet another difference between this life and his last, but at that moment, as he was entranced by colors, he couldn't even find it in himself to be mad about it.

And there was yet another thing, and this was what held his attention for the longest time. He briefly saw them in the corners of his eyes during the first few times Mebuki and Kizashi took him out of the house. At first, they were blurry figures moving too quickly across the rooftops. The next time he saw them, they were milling about a food stand, looking just like the average human being having a snack, but the uniforms they wore set them apart. Green vests, black long-sleeved shirts, and identical insignias displayed on metal plates they carried somewhere on their bodies.

At first, he thought they were cultivators. He could sense something about them that he couldn’t find in Mebuki or Kizashi. It was like a part of them had been fine-tuned and sharpened like a weapon. _Like a golden core,_ his mind whispered, longing for similarities between then and now. 

Another reason why he thought so was because most sects had set uniforms – or a color – that represented them, like the ones these people wore. It made it easy for sect leaders to see who was under their jurisdiction and who were trespassing on their territories. Of course there were some outliers who didn’t follow the set style or color, but there was usually some unique feature in their attire that marked them as a part of a certain sect. 

_Like Wei Wuxian and his clarity bell,_ a part of him mused, followed by something bitter and awful rising in his chest. He slammed the doors on that train of thought and went back to staring at the uniformed people. A good thing about being a toddler was that he wasn’t being berated for staring – although Kizashi eventually noticed what he was looking at.

“Those are shinobi, Sakura-chan,” the man said as they waited for Mebuki’s turn to pay at the counter. The uniformed people were across the street. “They are Konoha’s defenders.”

Jiang Cheng had long learned that he now lived in a place called Konoha. Not for the first time, he longed for a map. Still, Kizashi was a fountain of information, so Jiang Cheng asked, “What do they defend us from?”

“Other shinobi,” was the automatic response, “they defend us from invaders and the like. We’re very lucky, you know, to live here. Konoha is one of the strongest shinobi villages.” 

For a brief moment, Jiang Cheng admired how neither Kizashi nor Mebuki spoke to their daughter in that patronizing manner some adults tended to do, like the children wouldn’t understand the answer anyway so why bother answering outright?

“So they protect us from other people then?” Jiang Cheng asked. He received a nod. 

He mulled over the answer. Cultivators were capable of protecting people from other people, too. Specifically, they could kill humans as easily as they could destroy demons. Jiang Cheng has had much hands-on experience in that area himself. “Only from other people?” he asked once more.

“Yes, that’s right. What else did you think they’d be protecting us from?”

Jiang Cheng restrained himself from sighing. If shinobi only fought against mortal threats, then they were basically an army, although that still didn’t explain the strange sharpness of their spirits. Still, he suggested, “Ghosts?” with a shrug, willing Kizashi to take it as a child’s fantastical assumptions.

Predictably enough, he did. “Where did you hear about ghosts?” Kizashi shook his head, looking amused. “Let me tell you something, Sakura-chan,” he whispered, like he was telling a secret. “The dead can’t hurt you. It’s the living that you should fear.”

* * *

Later that night, Jiang Cheng found himself staring at the ceiling as the weight on his chest grew too heavy for him to even find the strength to move.

_“The dead can’t hurt you. It’s the living that you should fear.”_

But it wasn’t wholly true, was it? Just look at the vengeful spirits and ghastly ghouls he’d seen in his lifetime. And even for years, the monster that haunted his nightmares had been wearing white robes trimmed with red, grinning with all its teeth on full display, and taunting in that wretched voice, _I’ll always be a part of you._

And it wasn’t a lie, was it? Even as nearly two decades passed, Jiang Cheng carried the remains of that beast in the back of his mind, reliving the night his home went up in flames every time he closed his eyes. And even now, after that body that the monster tore into ceased its breathing and he was nestled in a child, that damned white and red horror show trailed after his thoughts, unwilling to let go.

_I’ll always be a part of you._

* * *

Something changed. 

It wasn't that he'd seen everything there was to see or learned everything there was to know about this new life. He knew he had barely scratched the surface. But ever since that night, he had felt...drained. The drive that he’d had to compare and contrast this new life and his past had seemingly just...vanished into thin air. 

He hadn’t felt this way since Lotus Pier burned.

_Oh._

“Oh,” he whispered to himself, fingers tightening on the sheets of his bed. “Is that why?”

It made no sense, it made _no_ sense, _it made no sense—_

Because _part_ of him was already stuck in the past, why not make it _all_ of him, is that right? Why bother looking at what’s here and now? Why not just leave him there to sit as Lotus Pier went up in flames around him?

 _This is what you want._ Came a vicious whisper that sounded so, so much like a-niang. _You pathetic boy. You hadn’t killed the monster—its body might be dead, but it lives in you, doesn’t it? It carved a spot for itself within you and lived there for years and you could never, ever rid yourself from it. You could certainly try ripping it out, but since you’ve allowed it to live within you for so long it only means that you actually_ want _it there, don’t you?_

 _You keep looking for_ back then _in the_ now _that you have; you just want to go back, don’t you?_

“No!” he hissed. In the silence of his bedroom, he could clearly hear this body’s voice, wispy and shaky. He could feel his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He knew this feeling. 

_Then stop living in the past!_

“I’m not!” he snarled. Was it _living in the past_ just because he could still remember what it felt like to have his core torn apart and obliterated? Was it so wrong that he couldn’t yet forget, that even now that monster haunted his dreams? Was it _living in the past_ just because he sometimes missed the people he would never get the chance to see again?

 _You are,_ a-niang shot back, _there’s nothing there for you and yet you still hold on!_ And Jiang Cheng could almost see her as if she stood in Sakura’s bedroom, one hand flung out at the cream colored walls as his thoughts, in her voice, yelled with the same vitriol she used to yell at a-die. _This is your life now! Quit searching for the one that you’d left behind like you’d die if you can’t find it!...But you would, wouldn’t you?_

She stalked nearer. _Because you’ve always been this way. Clingy, dependent; you’ve always needed somewhere to fit. Back then, you fit right as a poor substitute for your sister and her husband. You fit as you built your fallen sect._

But there’s no sect to lead here, nor one to restore. There was no orphaned nephew to protect the way he always, always failed with a-jie. What was here was a couple who lived unknowingly with a leech wearing their daughter’s skin, and Jiang Cheng would never fit into the role of the daughter they wanted. He couldn’t be the son a-niang or a-die wanted either, why would now be any different?

 _Yes, why would_ now _be any different?_ And this time it was the grinning monster in his head. _You’ll never fit here. Stay, stay, stay—_

_Stay in Lotus Pier, the place you never left._

_Stay in Lotus Pier, the place you built back up._

A-niang’s phantom scoffed. _You might as well have stayed dead._

And _that_ did it. With a snarl, Jiang Cheng slammed a fist against the wall, his rage – at his own nightmares that couldn’t have stayed dead, at his mind for daring to sully a-niang’s memory like this, at his own stupid, shattered train of thought – spilling over, like water from a constant stream that had been blocked by a dam _—_

And upon contact with his tiny three-year old fist, the wall shuddered and _cracked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in case anyone is confused abt how old jc/sakura is at the end, that's three years old. my idea of age progression is just to let it happen in the background apparently. Also truing to find reasons for irrational feelings is so hard, why is that??? There was something long and rambly here but it felt a bit,,,confusing so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> But basically imagine that metronome meme for the mood I was channeling into my fave as I wrote, with one end being curious and the other being furious. 
> 
> Anyway, I think this sets a different tone from canon in d(estruction) but ah, tell me what you think?


	2. Ghosts of the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled: please be the one.docx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ IF YOU WANT: 
> 
> First off, sorry to those who already got an email a while ago that I updated. I did indeed post a chapter but uh, took it down less than a day later. I was full of regrets, basically. I'm very flaky sigh. But! This is going to be the last instance of that (hopefully..?) so kindly forget whatever you might have read and please take this only slightly less regrettable installment. 
> 
> Second: there's a fair bit of OCs in this chapter. No, they're not really major and will mostly be here for childhood chapters so that's like one chapter more before we never see them again. We're just really lacking side characters and family members for Sakura so I made some up.

It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had grown so loud, but it was definitely the first time they’d grown loud enough to provoke an actual physical response, and even then, he could barely register what had happened over the currents in his ears.

It wasn’t until much later that he regained his senses and by then days had already passed since the incident, and the damage was already repaired, without Jiang Cheng noticing when or how or who had fixed it. And when he finally noticed, he couldn’t stop the rush of fury he’d felt then either.

The desire to break something wasn’t new. The utter lack of anything he could break without much consequence, however, _was,_ and with no outlet for his rage, Jiang Cheng could do nothing more than swallow it down all over again, tasting the bitterness on his tongue like a vile-tasting tonic.

He reckoned he’d rather down three doses of those again than taste his own emotions. 

Over the years he’d lived his new life, Jiang Cheng had always kept a distance in the way that he behaved, perhaps always a measure too wary. He lived knowing full well he wasn’t really a child, not really the little girl he appeared to be, and while he never discouraged his parents’ views that he was smarter than the average child – and, well, he certainly was because _he wasn’t a child –_ there was always a line he couldn’t cross, something he could never explain if he found himself beyond it. 

But then Jiang Cheng faltered and before he knew it, he was long past the line he’d drawn for himself. 

Jiang Cheng had only seen it in passing and from an outsider’s point of view, but children who were brought up in an atmosphere like this – which is to say, quiet and calm yet incredibly and undeniably loving – do not lose themselves to their own regrets. Hells, children don’t have regrets to lose themselves in unless it was regret over having eaten their snacks too quickly or having momentarily disappointed their parents. 

Or so that’s what all those supposedly helpful books and scrolls on child-rearing had claimed.

That was where the problem laid—Jiang Cheng had too many regrets and it had swallowed him up and left him open and unmasked for his new mother and father to see. By the time he remembered to keep his distance, it was already too late, and guarded expressions had already set on his parents’ faces. When he’d seen them, wary and worried, he braced himself for the interrogation that was sure to follow. 

...Well, he had been sure it would follow. 

Unexpectedly, however, there was no questioning that occurred. There wasn’t a hint of _why did you do that_ or _how did you do that._ There wasn’t even a scolding. There was wariness, yes, but it seemed as though they feared they would set him off again.

Instead of a hit or a slap, when his mother had raised her hands, it had been to engulf him in a hug that had been simultaneously too careful, as if she was cradling glass, and too tight, as if she worried he’d grow wings and fly away. 

_It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,_ Mebuki had whispered before he could say anything. His mouth had opened and closed a few times, kind of like a fish, but no sound left them. Mebuki only hugged tighter, joined a few beats later by Kizashi. _Mom and dad are here for you._

 _It’s okay, you’re okay,_ they whispered as they held him, _come back to us, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay._

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with any of it, so he sat there, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort they offered.

* * *

In the days that followed after, Jiang Cheng took his thoughts and stuffed them away to the furthest corners of his mind.

He knew it was a problem; _it_ being the thoughts in his head steadily melding into one, overly familiar voice whose owner was long dead. _It_ was the hours in a day he’d lose without his knowledge only to resurface later on to find that the sun had set. Those were problems and he knew he couldn’t run away from them. 

But loathe as he was to admit it, he couldn’t tackle it all at once, and trying to do so would only render him unmoving and stuck in place. He wasn’t running away, but perhaps it would be better if he just focused on getting a grip on his awareness. In battle, even a single moment’s distraction could cost one their life.

He wasn’t too off base. Life in general was just one big war, wasn’t it?

So he placed a lid over those thoughts and focused as much as he could on the present. It was the middle of summer, and after a couple days’ worth of packing and repacking bags of clothing and food, their little family of three made their annual trip out of Konoha. 

Jiang Cheng only had vague recollections of his first trip out of the village, just a few months after he’d been reborn. He’d only had the energy to stay awake for a few hours before sleep tugged at him again. Paired with his lack of understanding when it came to the language, he didn’t pay much attention to what was being said either. 

The trips in the following years were much more memorable in comparison, and by now he knew that they were visiting family every time they left Konoha. As it turned out, although they grew up there, neither his mother nor his father was born in Konoha. Their relatives, small as they were, resided elsewhere; every year, the couple made efforts to visit. 

This year, however, was a little different than the others that had gone by. There were four new additions to their party heading out of Konoha, a woman and three children. 

Perhaps, if they weren’t wearing identical metal plates with matching insignias on their foreheads, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have paid much attention to them. Perhaps, if they looked anything less than ready for a fight, Jiang Cheng would’ve unintentionally dismissed their presence. 

But they did and they were. The woman was clearly a shinobi and by the looks of it, so were the three children with her. Jiang Cheng listened absently to their introduction, something about an escort, and all the while, Jiang Cheng couldn’t figure out what horrified him more:

The implication that these children, who looked barely old enough to be allowed on night hunts on their own, were part of Konoha’s military, or that they looked rather _eager_ to be there. They looked happy and excited in a way that had nothing to do with simply fulfilling their duties. One child, a boy with hair so pale it was almost white, wouldn’t even stop rocking back and forth on his heels. 

_They’re Konoha’s defenders,_ Kizashi told him once. _They defend us from invaders and the like._

 _Soldiers,_ Jiang Cheng’s mind had supplied, but he had no idea they had children in their ranks. The utter lack of surprise in his parents’ faces told him this was absolutely normal, too. 

Not for the first time, he wondered at the world he was born in. Sharp energies permeated the air at all times and yet it was all physical, the life energy that flowed within every living being, and maybe it was his own limited scope, but he hadn’t felt, seen, or heard anything that would have warranted a night hunt—or perhaps Konoha was just well-protected, well-guarded, like an imperial city all on its own. 

He had long since learned that the notion of ghosts was laughed at, and the existence of other supernatural creatures was similarly dismissed. To be fair, it wasn’t like there were unbelievers in his past life, but they weren’t as flippant in ignoring the supernatural’s existence as his parents were. His parents didn’t even worship any gods, didn’t visit any deity’s shrines or temples whatsoever.

Was it just his parents or was it the same everywhere else? 

The only indication – reassurance, perhaps, although he couldn’t quite understand why he found it reassuring – Jiang Cheng got that they weren’t foreign or unheard of concepts entirely were the mystery novels Mebuki left lying all around their house.

_The dead can’t hurt you._

What Kizashi had said was both true and yet not depending on how one took it. Jiang Cheng could think of multiple ways the dead could hurt the living.

 _Gods and ghosts and spirits are fantastical,_ Jiang Cheng thought as he eyed one of the children, a pale girl with dark hair and even darker eyes, as she fiddled and palmed at a sharp, strangely-shaped knife, with the dexterity of someone who’s done it all before, _but child soldiers are completely normal._

* * *

“Sakura-chan, right?” a voice from their left piped up, drawing his attention away. It was the obviously excitable pale-haired boy. Although the group of shinobi all introduced themselves, Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite remember his name. “Are you excited for Obon?”

Jiang Cheng tilted his head to the side, half an act and half genuine confusion, “What’s that?”

The boy seemed to be exaggeration personified. Incredulous, his voice raised several registers before he was very swiftly shushed by his teacher and teammates. Suitably chastised, he asked, “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’? That’s what you’re going to Ogawa for, isn’t it?”

Before Jiang Cheng could answer, however, Mebuki piped up. “We are going for Obon, but Sakura-chan hasn’t really seen the celebrations before.”

“Eh, how so?” the young girl on their right asked. “But the mission parameters said—” she cut herself off, glowing bright red as if embarrassed. “Never mind what it said. But she should’ve been to Obon before.”

To that, his mother said nothing, merely adjusting her hold on her daughter.

“Now, now, children,” their team leader chided softly, the first words she’d said since they left the village walls. “Not everyone attends the festival itself. Some people just go back to reunite with their family and loved ones.”

“Oh,” the pale-haired boy said.

“Your sensei is right. It’s more like we’re going for a reunion than the festival itself. Although this year will be Sakura-chan’s first,” Kizashi said.

“Oh! Okay,” upbeat once again, the boy nodded, smiling at Jiang Cheng from where he was perched on Mebuki’s arms. “You’re going to love it. Obon is great! There’ll be candies and lanterns and games all around—although Ogawa is much smaller than Konoha, so it probably won’t be that grand—”

“ _Hikaru,_ ” his two teammates gasped, sounding horrified, and just like that, the three children started bickering as they walked.

* * *

After they crossed a wide ravine, the rest of the trip was done in silence. A day and a half passed before they arrived to their destination by nightfall.

Compared to Konoha, Ogawa was tiny and it had no walls to speak of. There were two landmarks: a small but steady stream they had to cross and a single weathered wooden gateway. Hanging above it was a wooden plaque that bore the village’s name.

 _‘Small River Village’,_ the plaque said. How fitting.

Once they crossed the gateway, Kizashi took the lead and led their small party to a house that sat near where the stream met with a larger river. The house sat on posts above the ground, the walls largely made of bamboo and another type of lacquered wood Jiang Cheng didn’t recognize, and was far too big for the two women who met them at the door.

“Mayu-nee, Kazue, it’s so good to see you,” Kizashi hugged them both as a greeting.

“Kizashi-nii,” the shorter of the two women groaned, “It’s only been a year.”

“It’s a year too long in my opinion,” the other woman huffed. Her voice was soft and warm, much like Kizashi’s. She turned to Mebuki, “It’s good to see you again, Mebuki-chan,” and then she spotted the little girl in Mebuki’s arms. The small smile on her face widened, “No hug for your favorite auntie?”

The shorter woman scoffed. “Ha, as if! _I’m_ her favorite auntie!” Then, as if in an attempt to prove her point, she all but snatched Jiang Cheng out of Mebuki’s arms, “See, she’s not even yelling!”

It was the same song and dance every year. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at their antics.

Mayu and Kazue were Kizashi’s older and younger sisters respectively. The resemblance was obvious in their red hair and the shape of their eyes, although only Mayu shared Kizashi’s sea-blue eyes.

Mayu was taller than Kazue by a few inches, a little skinnier too, and her skin was a shade darker than her sister’s from all the days she spent underneath the blazing sun.

In contrast, Kazue was shorter and her red hair was darker than Mayu’s. Her face was just as round as it had been in her childhood, making her look far younger than she really was. Her dark brown eyes twinkled with mirth every time Jiang Cheng saw her.

Together they played the perfect hosts for their guests. Mayu invited the shinobi team to stay the night before making their return trip to Konoha. “It must be tiring walking for hours,” she reasoned. “I suppose you’d be in a hurry but one night won’t hurt.”

They accepted gratefully.

Idle chatter filled the air during dinner, one that even Jiang Cheng couldn’t really avoid. The excitable boy – _Hikaru-nii,_ he insisted on being called – kept grabbing his attention, pulling him into conversation. He reminded Jiang Cheng incredibly of a puppy—Fairy, to be specific. Even when the dog had outgrown her puppy years, she never outgrew her playfulness.

“Sorry about Hikaru,” the other boy on their team murmured from where he sat across Jiang Cheng. He was noticeably less talkative than his other two teammates but was no less friendly, prone to smiling at his hosts. He looked rather genuine about it, too. “He’s the default babysitter during family reunions and kids have grown on him.”

“Like moss on a tree,” Hikaru chirped, making no effort to deny it.

“Do you have many siblings, then?” Mayu asked kindly.

Hikaru shook his head. “No—well, yes? Technically, they’re my cousins, but we’re all kind of close so it’s like I have baby siblings anyway.”

Mayu hummed. “That sounds lovely. If only our cousins…” she trailed off, shook her head, smiled and changed the subject.

They left by dawn of the next day. Jiang Cheng blearily stood with his parents as they bid goodbye to their _guards_ , and the use of the word startled him to wakefulness.

They couldn’t have been more than a bunch of twelve-year-olds. Even A-Niang and A-Die didn’t allow him and Wei Wuxian on their first night hunt without three older senior disciples.

* * *

In the previous years, Jiang Cheng could recall seeing only Mayu and Kazue during their week-long visits. It seemed this year was simply full of changes, because on the second day, a stern-faced woman showed up on the doorstep. Jiang Cheng had never met her before, but her pale-pink hair streaked with gray was incredibly telling all on its own.

His parents and aunts all stopped what they’d been doing to line up and greet her. Jiang Cheng took a split second before abandoning the book on horticulture Mayu had placed in his hands. It wasn’t as if he understood every word of it anyway, the terms unfamiliar and strange.

“Aunt Minami, it’s so good to see you,” Mayu greeted with the air of utmost politeness about her.

And yet the woman only inclined her head in the slightest degree and said, in a frigid tone, “Lying to my face already, young lady?”

Mayu’s finger twitched but she did nothing more than smile.

“Let me, auntie,” Kizashi moved to take the woman’s luggage out of her hands to place them in her room for her, but the older woman sidestepped minutely, and the narrow-eyed stare she sent his way made him falter. Then she spotted Jiang Cheng and looked his way.

Maybe it was because of the glint in her eye, maybe not. Whatever the case, when those eyes landed on him, he tugged his hand out of Mebuki’s firm grip and stepped forward. Though unpracticed and perhaps clumsy, he bowed in the way he hadn’t done in years—the way a disciple would to a teacher.

He didn’t know how to say _grandaunt_ in this language _,_ so he said nothing and held his bow until the woman hummed.

“Bad,” she simply said, “but certainly better than these fools. Stand up, child.”

Jiang Cheng stood. He met her searching gaze for several seconds before she walked away to the hallway where the bedrooms were. She left without any parting words to anyone else.

The way his aunts and parents slumped over the moment she was out of sight greatly reminded him of a puppet with its strings cut. Kazue sighed, though quieter than her usual exaggerated mannerisms. She turned to her siblings, “You okay?”

Mayu did not sigh. Though her gentle smile remained fixed on her face, her words were a sharp contrast, “I crave death.”

“ _Mayu,_ ” Mebuki chided softly, “there are children present.”

“Uh, no, there’s _one_ child present and she’s doing much better than the rest of us,” Kazue corrected, an odd look on her face. “Who taught you that?”

All four adults glanced at the little pink-haired girl standing at the side. Ignoring the question, he pointed out, “But she said I did badly.” But it couldn’t be _that_ bad. It wasn’t a particularly elaborate gesture.

Kizashi nodded slowly, “True, but from your _obaa-san,_ that’s practically a glowing recommendation.”

* * *

Jiang Cheng saw the truth in his father’s words over the course of their visit. His grandaunt, it seemed, could not go a day without expressing some form of criticism at her nieces and nephew. With her present, the calm and easygoing atmosphere Jiang Cheng had come to associate with their yearly visits was nowhere to be found.

_Don’t slouch, don’t shout, don’t sprawl on the floor like some heathen, this is atrocious, thirty years and you don’t know how to cook, no wonder you couldn’t find a respectable man to marry you—_

A day hadn’t yet fully passed before Jiang Cheng decided that he did _not_ like her at all.

The woman reminded him greatly of A-Niang. That alone was insulting and he mentally sent a prayer asking for forgiveness for thinking that in the first place, but the woman really _did_.

Although unlike Yu Ziyuan, Jiang Cheng found her words less cutting, less hurtful.

Perhaps it was the lack of an emotional connection towards her, a lack of any underlying want to please her. Whatever the case, Jiang Cheng couldn’t find it in him to even feel anything other than mild annoyance when she aimed her words his way.

However, when she did it to his parents, to his aunts—

It had been three years and a half, and his parents had been nothing except good and kind and loving. His aunts, though he saw them only once each year, weren’t any different. _Soft-hearted,_ A-Jie would have called them. A-Jie would have gotten along well with them.

And this woman – their _aunt,_ his _grandaunt_ – saw nothing wrong in rending their soft hearts with her sharp words.

So no, Jiang Cheng did not like her one bit and he did nothing to hide the fact.

But it seemed it didn’t matter, not to her. During the length of their stay, Jiang Cheng found himself stared at, scrutinized, like an artifact on display. Minami did not hide the way she watched him and Jiang Cheng did not hide the fact that he noticed. Whenever he felt her eyes on him, he openly glared back.

For some reason, this only seemed to amuse her.

“ _Why_ though?” he groaned in the privacy of the bedroom he shared with his parents. “Why?”

“Maybe it’s because you look like her. Oh, don’t give me that look, you do,” Mebuki chided. “It’s the hair.”

“Your mother has a point.” Kizashi said, but the grim expression on his face told Jiang Cheng that though it might’ve been a valid point, it wasn’t the right one.

"Why is she here?" He asked. "She was never here before."

Kizashi shrugged helplessly, "I don't know. Maybe she got sick of staying away?" Shaking his head, he sighed, "In any case… Be nice to your obaa-san, Sakura-chan."

But it was hard to be nice to someone who seemed bent on making everyone else miserable. Being polite to someone who refused to show even a modicum of respect to everyone else was a new hell all on its own. Idly, he wondered if that was what people felt when dealing with him.

* * *

Things came to a head on the first day of the festival.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little bit curious. And why wouldn’t he be? After all, their visits have apparently always coincided with a festival and yet Jiang Cheng couldn’t recall being brought to any celebrations whatsoever.

Not that he really minded. Celebrations were…complicated, for lack of better word. Before, Jiang Cheng didn’t truly have time for them, and the only festivals he bothered to do more than cursory checks were the ones A-Ling dragged him to. Those were already few and far in between, and with the added factor of splitting off the year between Lotus Pier and Koi Tower…

So no, he couldn’t say he was excited or eager—but he was curious. How come no one made a mention of Obon before? Not his mother, not his father, not his aunts. Why did all their visits consist of helping his aunts around their house, tending the garden, visiting the rice fields? And if it was a festival, how come Jiang Cheng never _noticed?_

Sure, his aunts’ house was situated a few minutes away from the center of the village and was thus relatively far removed, but unless festivals were no longer bright and loud then Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could’ve missed even a single sign of it.

 _Obon,_ they called it. Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to expect other than food and games. Those were the vital parts of a festival. He hadn’t expected anything more than that—

And he certainly hadn’t expected to run into a parade of ghosts.

They came in all kinds of conditions: some were young, some were old, headless, some were missing limbs, and some looked like their flesh was just _this_ close to falling off their bodies, while some looked relatively new and indistinguishable from the living if not for their hazy transparency.

The ghosts spoke amongst themselves in cheery tones, following the path to the village lit up by floating, wispy flames. “Oh, they’ve rebuilt nicely,” one ghost said.

“Bah, from what I can see, my no-good son’s left the land he’d been given!” one yelled, “Not a single crop, not a single plant—as if he’d gain anything from those no-good cities!”

“Calm down, you can’t possibly see your stretch of the land from here.”

There were children, too, asking innocently, “Can we go see mom? Can we?”

“Sure. We have time, there’s nothing stopping us.”

The dead were visiting the living…and it seemed nobody noticed.

The sun was setting, the last strips of red and orange visible in the horizon, reflected in the stretch of the river’s waters, and no one seemed remotely concerned with the ghostly procession occurring in their midst.

With one hand in Kizashi’s and one in Mebuki’s, Jiang Cheng was tugged forward to walk to the center of the village where lanterns were lit and shops were set up. They cut straight through the ghost parade. Jiang Cheng stumbled when he’d tried to dig his heels in, unwilling to come in contact with the spirits.

It did nothing. He was pulled forward anyway. However, unlike his parents who passed effortlessly, Jiang Cheng ran into one ghost’s hip and fell backwards with the impact. Before he could fall on the dirt, however, someone caught him.

Looking up, he met Minami’s ever-steely eyes, and the vindictive glee within them was unmistakable.

“I knew there was something different about you,” she murmured lowly, smiling slowly, “You can see them, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That happened. How come Minami thinks her grandniece is strange? How come no one made a peep about the hole in the wall? Tune in next time for crack treated way more seriously than even I expected to treat it.
> 
> I'll explain more next chapter, there's a lot to be addressed next chapter, but for now have this. It's the 24th version of this one chapter. I'm so tired of it gods above... I'm pretty sure I've dug a hole for myself somewhere in this chapter. And yes, I'm aware obaa-san is like, grandma. I call my grandaunt 'grandma'. pls just take it skskks 
> 
> To anyone who's been to a Bon Festival before: I am sorry about inaccuracies. 
> 
> Also, note the relationship tags. There are slash tags, namely wangxian and xicheng, but the ships are likely gonna take a while. I've been wondering if I should keep them. For one, the ships won't show up until later, but on the other hand, I don't want people to think this is ship free and like be disappointed by an unexpected ship development...
> 
> Anyway! We'll be seeing familiar faces soon. How soon, I can't tell, and everyone's guessing on who's going to be who amuses me greatly. skskks I was planning a timeskip but that didn't happen. Thank you so much for your patience y'alls but also pls don't expect too much from me i have the attention span of a goldfish


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